"No," he said; "the time is past for that." A fist hammered on the door.

Mr.Raymond threw it open.
"Brigantine--on the sands! Half a mile this side of the light-house!" Taffy saw across his father's shoulder a gleam of yellow oilskins and a flapping sou'-wester hat.

The panting voice belonged to Sam Udy--son of old Bill Udy--a labourer at Tresedder.
"I'll go at once," said Mr.Raymond.

"Run you for the coast-guard!" The oilskins went by the window; the side gate clashed to.
"Is it a wreck ?" cried Taffy.

"May I go with you ?" "Yes, there may be a message to run with." From the edge of the towans, where the ground dipped steeply to the long beach, they saw the wreck, about a mile up the coast, and as well as they could judge a hundred or a hundred and twenty yards out.
She lay almost on her beam ends, with the waves sweeping high across her starboard quarter and never less than six ranks of ugly breakers between her and dry land.